


The Unlikely Friendship of Cat-stiel and Rat!Dean

by poD7et



Series: rat!Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, cat!Cas, like literal trash, rat!dean - Freeform, seriously, vomit eating, what the hell is this trash, what's wrong with me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poD7et/pseuds/poD7et
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a true story I made up. Rat!Dean is down on his luck, but things start to look up when he meets and unlikely friend, Cat-stiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unlikely Friendship of Cat-stiel and Rat!Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a true story I made up. One day I was walking with my friend and we happened upon a seemingly dead rat. We avoided and continued on our way. And happened upon some vomit. We passed that too and then ate breakfast. On the way back the vomit and the rat were both gone. And these are the events that I have decided transpired.

Dean was hungry. He hadn’t eaten in what felt like ages. He prowled the streets for something, _anything_ to eat. But times had changed. Food wasn’t as plentiful as it used to be. That’s why Dean had to look twice when he saw the discarded sandwich in the street. After he convinced himself it wasn’t a trick of shadows from the streetlights screwing with his mind, he looked up and down the street before darting out to grab the feast. But before he got there, a car came careening down the street. “Rats!” he cried with dismay as his meal spun off with the offending automobile.

Dean continued his hunt for what seemed like ages. He was about to give up his search, when he smelled something absolutely delicious. He followed his nose to a dark tunnel, but he dare not enter. Experience has taught him better. This was a trap. He had a close friend, Charlie, the sister he never had, she wandered into one of these traps and never came back out. Dean knew it was pointless to continue prowling tonight. He knew he should get back to his next before the grimalkins caught him vulnerable and alone.

He began to scuttle back home when he smelled it. It was the most beautiful smell he had smelled in ages. It couldn’t be, could it? Parmesan cheese?! He approached, but was repelled by a different and terrible scent. I was absolutely rancid. It smelled of sick. It was sick. It was a puddle of fresh vomit.

Dean grimaced and turned away. But then his stomach let out an audible rumble. He eyed the bile laden puddle with morbid curiosity. He couldn’t . . . could he? Fuck it all to hell-- after all, it felt as if he was already living in it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He closed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and licked. It tasted bitter and it burned his throat as he swallowed. Dean’s stomach churned as he continued to eat, but he forced the acrid stuff down-- slowly at first until instinct took over and his feeding became more and more ravenous. He lapped at the caustic fare until at last his body rebelled and brought everything he just ingested back up again. The smell of the fresh vomit caused him to dry heave, but Dean steeled himself. He forced his breath to steady before he continued to ingest the repulsive, but much needed calories.

After he had his fair share, he made his way back home. He tried to move without moving because with even the slightest of movements, like say, breathing, his stomach gurgled and threatened to evacuate its contents. Dean took only three steps before he had to stop. And although Dean wasn’t moving, the world was spinning. Was he . . . drunk?

* * *

 

Cat-stiel prowled the streets that night as per his orders. He didn’t always agree with his clowder’s dominant tomcat, but he knew that doing what he was told was the best way to ensure that he went to sleep with a full belly safely within the boundaries of Zachariah’s territory.

Cats-tiel wasn’t a high ranking feline. He mostly patrolled the deadlands. As he made his rounds this evening, he lost himself in thought. He questioned his decision to stay with his brothers and sisters. Sure, they took care of him, but he didn’t feel as if he belonged. Then again, it’s not like there was anywhere else for him to go. He was pondering this quandary when he nearly tripped over a tasty little morsel. Cat-stiel stared at the thing. He knew should take this morsel back home. But just then, staring at the lifeless thing lying helpless on the ground, a strange feeling came over the rebellious kitty. This rat was so small and vulnerable; compared to himself, he suddenly felt strong . . . and hungry. He could eat this guy and his siblings would be none the wise. However, Cat-stiel, the ever loyal servant, resisted the urge to eat the little guy and instead scooped him up and started to make his way back home. Bringing this feast to Zacha-rawr-ah would certainly bolster his position in the clowder.

* * *

 

Dean slowly became aware of himself. He was disoriented and his head ached. And also quite moist. He slowly pieced together the events before he fell unconscious. The sick he gorged himself on must have been from an extremely intoxicated human; that would explain why the world was moving even though he was pretty sure that he wasn’t. Dean tried to stand, but couldn’t seem to coordinate his limbs. He was definitely drunk. He felt a warm wetness on his cheek and tried to wipe the spittle off himself, but to no avail. After a few more moments, his vision began to clear and he realized that it wasn’t his vision that was bouncing, but himself. And that it wasn’t intoxication that immobilized his legs, but the fangs of a vicious cat.

Panic overcame Dean. And in response, Cat-stiel dropped the poor thing. Dean started to run, but he didn’t make it very far before stumbling over his own feet. He may have been a little drunk. Dean steeled himself for the worst. He felt the heat of Cat-stiel’s breath on his back and prepared to meet his maker. But instead of the sharp pain of a predator’s fangs, he felt something akin to sandpaper scraping across his back.

“What the-- What they hey . . . STOP THAT!” Dean squeaked.

Cat-stiel stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t want to scare the little guy.

“I uhh-- my, you know-- well . . .ya see . . . ?”

“Spit it out already!” Dean demanded.

“Just go.”

“Go?”

“Before I change my mind. Get outta here!” Cat-stiel meowed.

Something in the cat’s tone told Dean he should skedaddle and so he did.

* * *

 

For the next few days, Dean felt that someone or something was stalking him. He could feel eyes boring holes into the back of his head, but when he turned around, no one was there.

Dean was ready to claim insanity when he met Cat-stiel again.

“You!” Dean squeaked.

“Hm?” Cat-stiel mewled.

“You’re the hellion that tried to eat me!”

“Eat you?!”

“Don’t play dumb! I was in your mouth! And heaven knows how I managed to escape!”

“What?! You’re the one that scared the crap out of me! I thought you were dead! And when I found out I was wrong . . . Do you know where you are? This is Zacha-rawr-ah’s territory. He’s ruthless. I knew you were injured so I spent the past few days following you to make sure that none of Zacha-rawr-ah’s other kittens caught up with you.” Cat-stiel retorted. “I’m the reason you’re alive right now!”

“Pffffft” Dean scoffed.

Cat-stiel arched his back and hissed.

Dean instinctively cowered.

And a large black cat leaped over Dean and ran off.

“Purr-iel.” Cat-stiel muttered.

“What?”

“Another one of Zacha-rawr-ah’s minions, but since you’re fine on your own, I guess I should just leave you to your own devices.”

“Wait!”

“Meow?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from purr-dition.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Dean answered and nipped ineffectively at Cat-stiel’s paws.

“Are you done?”

Dean glowered.

* * *

 

Dean and Cat-stiel grew closer over the next few days. But he couldn’t believe Cat-stiel's claims. There was apparently a faction of cats that was determined to destroy life as Dean had known it. They were willing to give up a life of relative comfort in order to bring about a new world order.

A cat named Lili-puss was hellbent on taking over the block and destroying everything that stood in her way. One of her Lieutenants, Cat-zazel, was hellbent on killing Dean. He was a yellow tabby that Dean had barely escaped from on several occasions.

Dean and Cas make a pact to stick together and beat this regime. They would make the world safe for rats to scavenge the town.

From that day on, even if Dean couldn’t see Cat-stiel, he knew the puss wasn’t far away. If he were ever threatened, Cat-stiel would jump into action and help Dean chase off the danger, even at the cost of his own well-being.

The duo prowled the streets in the pre-dawn searching for food while avoiding Zacha-rawr-ah, Lili-puss, and Cat-zazel. And although, sometimes things got rough, they stuck it out. They weren’t going to let others tell them what to do.

* * *

 

And truth be told, Dean started to fall in love with Cat-stiel. Although he knew that it would never work. Like physically, it wouldn't work. Dean was a rat and Cat-stiel was a well, the name said it all. He was a cat. And Dean knew that even if the feeling was reciprocated, he would never be able to please Cat-stiel in the way he could with other rats. At least until this morning.

Dean was scrounging through a pile of trash bags when he saw it. It was gorgeous. A whole radish. There was a little something or other growing on it, but other than that, it was perfect. Dean snuck a glance at Cat-stiel. The kitty was occupied with keeping guard. Dean quickly cleaned off the mold (or whatever it was) and popped out of the trash holding his prize between his two front paws. He was smiling. Cat-stiel just tilted his head, perplexed about the significance of the vegetable.

“I’ll turn that look into the blissed out smile of a Cheshire cat within the hour.” Dean said as he grinned at Cat-stiel.

“What sort of breed is a Cheshire?”

“Nevermind that,” Dean continued. “Let’s hole up someplace safe, I’m about to make you one happy pussy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry if you read this. Written for spncoldesthits.


End file.
